Mira pressed herself against the cold, damp bricks, breath fogging in the chill. Heart pounding, she clutched her bag tighter, peering down the alley to make sure no one had followed. Thunder rumbled overhead, briefly illuminating her anxious face in the window of a boarded-up shop. The reflection stared back—same tangled hair, same wary eyes—but as Mira squinted closer, something in the glass shifted with a life of its own.
Mira's fingers brushed the glass, and the reflection's lips curved into a knowing smile a heartbeat late. A shiver ran up her spine. The world beyond the glass seemed brighter, tinged with a faint blue glow. "Are you...me?" she whispered, unsure if she was losing her mind or if the city itself was playing tricks.
Unable to resist, Mira pressed her palm flat against the windowpane. The surface turned soft, her hand sinking through with a sensation like plunging into icy water. She gasped, stumbling forward, and the world twisted around her—colors smearing, sounds warping—until she tumbled onto a sunlit street lined with trees blooming violet blossoms. On the other side of the glass, the alley was gone.
Mira of the Mirror stepped forward, her eyes bright with recognition. "Welcome," she said, her voice musical but tinged with sadness. Mira stared, unable to speak, as her counterpart offered a gentle hand. "I've watched you for so long. We share more than a face, you and I."
Mira listened as Mira of the Mirror explained the connection between their worlds—two halves of the same soul, split by a wish made long ago. "Your pain echoes here. But so does your hope," she said, squeezing Mira's hand. Tears pricked Mira's eyes; for the first time in months, she felt seen, understood beyond words.
Mira of the Mirror looked at her with longing. "You can stay, or you can return. But know this: you are never alone. There will always be a reflection to remind you of your strength." Mira gazed at the glowing window, her heart lighter than it had been in ages, and breathed in the magic of possibility.
